Solving the Puzzle
by rose by another name 12
Summary: A series of one shots based on my best friend's OC. Sherlock/OC Disclaimer: This is based on my friend's story and of course the TV show Sherlock, I own nothing. ;)
1. Chapter 1

Note: The following is the first in a series of one shots based on a fanfic, written by my best friend TheAngelOfTimeDeducesMyHead. So I basically own nothing but the plot, the OC is hers and well... you know who created the other characters. I encourage you to read her story before reading mine. It's under her pen name on the site:) Thanks for reading!

-rose by another name

Chapter: His Greatest Weakness

Lyra Morgan walked through the doors of Scotland Yard, grinning from ear

to ear. She had just popped out to get she and her partner in deduction and most

recently boyfriend, Sherlock some coffee.

The boyfriend part was what she was smiling about. She

and her darling Sherlock had been best mates and co-consulting detectives for

the longest, but now they had finally gotten up the courage and admitted the

long bent up feelings that had plagued them both.

She had to say that she didn't prefer the gossip spreading

around the office about it. Why was it such a shock? Even with their futile

little brains, they must have had an inkling about their feelings for each

other. That was just a mystery she couldn't solve.

As she walked toward the elevator, several sets of eyes followed

her. One set of those many eyes contained a predatory gleam.

Anderson watched Lyra intently from his desk. Oh how he

despised it, she and Sherlock flaunting her newfound love around the office. Of

course they'd always flaunted everything else, their gifts in deduction, their

free range positions that where just above everyone in the department, if not

the world.

Sherlock had always had it made, he thought, and now he has a

pretty little thing like her. So clever and free spirited, any man in the world

would look at Lyra Morgan twice. So why did she choose a monstrous little snip

like Sherlock Holmes.

Oh how he hated them, both of them, and Watson too. They all

thought they were do clever, why secretly even there presence made Anderson feel

that he should brush up on well..everything. He wanted to see Sherlock seethe,

just as he had every day for years, and now he had the perfect outlet to

irritate him to the extreme.

He quickly followed Lyra to the elevator, stoping the door with his

hand just as it began to close. "Good morning, Lyra," he said in a suspiciously

friendly voice.

"Hello," she replied, not appreciating Anderson's lack of distance.

He had always struck her as a potentially distrustful , if not stupid,character

and this morning his behavior made her feel down right uncomfortable. He'd

always acted as if he hated she and Sherlock, off course they'd always ridiculed

him. Today he was being friendly to the point of suspicion.

"I heard about you and Sherlock," he jeered.

"Oh?" She tried to sound surprised by his interest but in reality she

was deducing.

"And I must say...I don't like it," he continued.

"And why is that?" Her voice was sharper now, alert.

Before she had time to act, Anderson had pinned her to the

elevator's wall. "What on Earth are you doing?" She raged, not at all expecting

this. Their faces were inches apart, way too close for comfort.

"Anderson, what is wrong with you?"She shrieked, shocked by his

certain change in opinion for her.

" Get away from me!"

He ignored her, continuing their previous conversation. "I don't

like it because..well Sherlock, so gloaty and proud, he doesn't deserve a pretty

thing like you. Why should I, a hard working, reasonable man be stuck alone.

While he saunters away with you, a man who already has everything..reaps even

more."

She mustered all her strength and pushed him away, she knew what

this was. An outrageous ploy to make Sherlock jealous, concocted by a man who

longed for one thing, more. And she was angry, how dare he use her as a ploy to

attack him. How dare he insult him right to her face.

She was too angry for words, and a bit afraid of what an utterly

desperate man like Anderson would do. She did not know what to say, her mind was

too clouded by shock to do detective work. She'd always seen that jealous gleam

in his eyes whenever he looked at she and Sherlock, but never thought he would

betray the man to which he owed so much.

The elevator reached its destination and opened, giving her chance

to escape. As she backed away she saw the rage on his face. "He'll here about

this," is all she said, before running toward her love's office. In his arms she

knew she would find a safe haven.

When she entered, she found John focused on his laptop screen and

Sherlock gazing at a file. "Lyra, your back," he said not looking up. He soon

put the file down and walked over to embrace her. "Missed you," he whispered

planting a kiss on her forehead.

She held onto him rather tightly, still shaken by Anderson's

confrontation. "What's wrong," Sherlock said out of no where. His concerned eyes

met hers.

"What?" She asked, taken of guard.

He began deducing. "You're trembling, you're pupils are dilated, and

you seem too have dropped our coffee. Knowing you as well as I do, you have

probably just seen something you didn't want to see or suffered through some

sort of confrontation."

"Both," she replied. "Anderson followed me into the elevator, then he

came on to me."

"What?" Sherlock asked angrily, he couldn't believe that Anderson would do

something like this. Try to lure away his Lyra in the most shameful manner. "The

jealous old goat has finally cracked," he finally declared. By now, John was

also gazing at Lyra, quite surprised.

"What are you talking about?" John asked, Anderson had never struck

him as an envious man, just a man who has a slight resentment for Sherlock and

Lyra. But then again he was new at this.

"Oh, John," Sherlock said, still mad and still holding Lyra.

"Anderson's been looking on with envy for years. My very position is a mockery

to his. And now he's just trying to provoke me through one of the only things I

care about. And you can consider me provoked."

He began to walk toward the door, but Lyra grabbed his hand. "What

are you going to do?"

"I'm going to give Anderson a piece of my mind, now the question is

are you coming with me?"

"But of course," she replied and linked arms with him.

"Hold on I want to see this too,"John said, coming behind

them.

The trio made their way down to the ground floor. When they got there

they found Anderson at his desk, presumably laughing about the incident at hand

with Donovan.

"Good morning, Sherlock..." he started but was cut off by the

detective's palm slapping down on his desk.

"Now listen here you envious little rat," Sherlock began. "If you

ever lay a hand on Lyra again, we will walk right out of this department. Which

is something you don't want because deep down in that sick little brain of

yours, you know Lestrade needs us. And if you anger his prized detectives your

position will be at stake."

"Oh look," Anderson jeered in return,"our little consultant is

finally making a stand. He'd just grown some professionalism, and he just lost

it."

"Don't you tell me about professionalism!" Sherlock snapped, "Why

you're using my girlfriend as a pawn of warfare, you call that professional? I

call it your first feeble attempt to crawl out from under me, which is never

going to happen. I'll tell you something Anderson you had better look up the

definition if professional, and if you so much as look at Lyra again, I'll show

you the most un-professional display you've ever seen."

With that he stalked off, grabbing Lyra's hand as he did. John

followed, astonished by Sherlock's ferocity.

The day moved on as usual, Sherlock didn't say much which made

Lyra and John worry. On the taxi ride home, he didn't even play their usual game

of deducing the pedestrians walking about. When they got home, Mrs. Hudson was

out so John ordered take out then sat down to write on his blog.

Lyra retreated to the room that she and Sherlock shared, looking a

bit sad. Sherlock tried not to be bothered by her expression, but finally acted

on instinct and followed her.

"Lyra," he called softy as he walked into the room. She was sitting

on the foot of the bed with her head in her hands. "What's the matter?" He ran

to embrace her, kissing her blond curls gently. "Look at me Little Lotte," she

raised her head, there were tears streaming down her cheeks and her mascara was

smudged. "Why are you crying?"

"I..I was afraid that you were angry with me," was her reply. Her

boyfriend looked at her as if she were mad.

"Why would I be angry with you, you've done nothing?"

"Oh Sherlock, you've always prided yourself on being an invincible

man, with no weaknesses. Now the whole department knows you have one, me.

There's a lot of people there who don't like you, you don't want them to be able

to get at you. I thought you might want to get rid of me."

"Heavens no, Lyra, don't talk like that. Why you're not my weakness,

you're my strength. The reason I wake up every day us to see the smile on your

face, to make those lovely green eyes light up. You have stayed true to me

through every trial and I'll do the same as long as I live."

"Oh, Sherlock," Lyra said tearfully, "Why do you have to be so

bloody brilliant?"

"It's what I do my dear," he placed his fingers on her chin, tilting

her head up. With those words, their lips met. She tangled her fingers in his

hair, they were both out of their heads longing only for each

other.

Finally lack of air causes them to part. "I love you," she said,

burying her head in the crook of his neck.

"I love you too," he replied, "You are the greatest weakness I ever

had."


	2. Chapter 2

**Note: Again this is based on my friend's story, but she's not going to be updating for a while so here's something to tide you over until she writes a new chapter. The next chapter is already in progress for this. Please forgive the strange format of the paragraphs. Enjoy!**

** _rose by another name**

Sergeant Donovan glared across the office of Scotland Yard, hate

radiating off of her. This hate was directed at Sherlock Holmes and his

flightily little girlfriend Lyra Morgan. Once again they had poked fun at her

affair, which may or may not have been going on, with Anderson. Of course they

probably had a good reason to, seeing as both she and Anderson had hated them

since the day they'd walked into the department. But still, the little

psychopaths had no right to destroy her reputation at work. They didn't even

have a right be there, working a dream job with nothing but their egos.

She wanted revenge, nothing too serious, just something that would ensure

short term misery for the charming couple and their third wheel John. They were

all so disgustingly clever..so happy with each other. The whole department

envied the way life came so naturally too them, how clever they were. What would

be the harm in causing one of them some pain, which would cause the others to

worry?

Why, at that very moment she was cleaning out the refrigerator in the

employee lounge. She happened upon a piece of cheese which looked as if it were

several years old and was severely moldy. Hmmm, that would make somebody sick,

perhaps for a few days. She looked across the room at Sherlock, Lyra, and John.

They were all gathered round a desk looking at a case file, Lyra was eating a

sandwich.

And the idea suddenly hit her. Sherlock was awfully protective of his

darling Lyra, he would be plagued with worry if she fell ill. She'd rather make

Lyra suffer anyway. She was always in a rather annoyingly happy and quirky mood,

it would be fun to bring her down and scare her boyfriend senseless.

Also, she had always been rather envious of Lyra. She was very pretty

and very successful in life. She had a nice flat, handsome partner, enjoyable

job. Donovan didn't exactly have any of this. It was the perfect plan to

satisfy her temper.

She waited until Sherlock and John left, then until Lyra went to the

restroom. She simply walked over too the table and slipped a slice of the rancid

cheese between the bread. Now all she had to do was wait.

Donovan retreated back to her desk, waiting for Lyra to return. When

she did, she took a bite out of the planted sandwich. Donovan wanted to scream

with victory. Sherlock, Lyra, and John were going to have a rough weekend.

Revenge was going to be sweet indeed.

Lyra felt terrible. Absolutely terrible, her stomach had been hurting

her since lunch, she was burning up, and she felt as if she were on the verge of

collapse. She hasn't the faintest idea what could be ailing her. There had been

no virus going around, no one at the office had gotten sick.

She didn't want to go to John for a diagnosis, because John would tell

Sherlock and Sherlock would worry. She hated to worry him, doting as he was.

Today was Friday , which meant that tonight they'd all be going to out to

dinner with Mrs. Hudson, true to tradition. She didn't really feel like going,

but she didn't want to let them down. She would just have to muddle through and

pray that her boyfriend did not notice her strange behavior.

"Ready to go Lyra?" Sherlock asked, coming up to her desk and putting on

his coat and scarf.

"Yes love," she smiled despite her queasiness. She stood as Sherlock

handed her her own coat. John then walked up behind them and they made their way

to the elevator.

As they walked through the doors and down a few stone steps, Lyra veered to

her right, nearly bumping into Sherlock.

"Are you alright, Little Lottie?" He asked, steadying her.

"Yea I 'm good, just a bit dizzy. Are we still on for dinner with Mrs.

Hudson tonight?"

"Yes," he replied, "But if you don't feel well, we can stay home."

"No, no," she lied, again not wanting to worry him,"I'm fine."

"Okay," he said not quite trusting her, his Little Lotte was quite good at

being deceptive. He pulled himself our of his thoughts and stepped into the cab

that John had signaled, wanting to get Lyra out of the cold. He grasped her hand

tightly on the ride home, as if he would loose her if he let go.

When they got too their flat, Lyra retreated to her room to change

clothes. John and Sherlock sat around in the living room, waiting for Mrs.

Hudson to return from wherever she'd gone off to.

"Did she look strange to you?" Sherlock asked John, who didn't seem to be

paying attention.

"What...oh yeah, a little peckish, but she'll be ok. Women get like that,

you worry to much."

"No I don't John," he replied with a sigh,"I simply love her."

John smirked, he liked seeing Sherlock and Lyra together after watching

their obvious attraction to each other play out. For him nothing had really

changed, he was just forced to witness many more kisses and romantic scenes. He

could have sworn that Lyra gave Sherlock more of a heart.

The door opened, pulling him out of his musings. Mrs. Hudson, stepped in

holding a bag of groceries. "Hello loves," she said, "just let me put these away

and we'll be ready to go." John went to the kitchen to help Mrs. Hudson with the

groceries while Sherlock continued to stare out the window.

Meanwhile, Lyra was in the bathroom that connected to her and Sherlock's

room. She was vomiting violently and still had no idea what was wrong with her.

All she knew was that she felt even worse than before. Right after she had

changed clothes her stomach had betrayed her and she had began retching into the

loo.

When it seemed that she had finally emptied the contents of her stomach,

she stood up and looked into the mirror. Her face was pale and shiny with sweat,

the room seemed to be spinning just a bit. She splashed some cold water on her

face and left the bathroom. Perhaps she could carry on the evening like nothing

was wrong, it was probably nothing anyway just a little bug or..something she'd

eaten. She would be okay and no one would ever have to know. She didn't like

others seeing her weakness, she always prided herself on being a woman of her

own will. Even under Mycroft's scandalous plan during her year away, she'd

managed to keep her dignity.

She walked into the living room, trying look as steady as possible.

Sherlock turned around too look at her, she could see the worry in his

eyes.

"Hello Lyra dear," Mrs. Hudson cooed, copying John and putting on her coat.

"Hi," she said rather weakly.

"Are we ready to go?" The older woman asked.

"No," Sherlock said firmly, "we're not going out. Lyra doesn't feel

well."

"What?" She asked, momentarily forgetting his genius and being puzzled by

his knowledge of her condition.

He turned around as if examining her and immediately began

deducing."Judging by your stature and the way your clutching your abdomen I'd

say upset stomach. Also, you've been having waves of dizziness and I'm guessing

nausea. You keep looking at the floor, which means you don't want me to see your

eyes and know that your miserable." He quickly placed a hand on her cheek.

"You're also burning up, your face is totally flushed."

He turned to John, who had been watching with silent curiosity.

"Professional diagnosis?"

"I'd say she either has a virus or food poisoning." He replied, spoken

like the doctor he was.

"There haven't been any viruses going around the office," Sherlock

recalled, "which means Little Lotte ate something rancid."

Lyra was about to protest when another wave of dizziness hit her. Her legs

turned to jelly and she nearly hit the floor. Luckily Sherlock caught her,

hauling her into his arms bridal style.

"You might want to order take out Mrs. Hudson," he inquired, walking

toward the bedroom. When he got there he removed Lyra's shoes and jacket and

laid her on the bed. John was right behind him. "Okay, what do we do for food

poisoning?" The detective asked.

"There's really nothing we can do accept let it run its coarse," was his

reply.

Sherlock didn't like that. He wanted a way to ease his Lyra's pain. He

deduced that he could do it my simply being there, and cheering her up until the

sickness passed. Yes that's what he would do, he'd just..be there.

It was 10:00 at night now and still Sherlock stayed with Lyra. She'd

finally admitted how awful she felt and changed into the oversized sweatshirt

and yoga pants that she slept in. True to his silent promise, Sherlock had

stayed by her side all night, reading to her between waves of nausea. Finally

when the book had become tiresome, he just laid beside her and whispered sweet

words in her ear.

Lyra had eventually been lulled to sleep by his voice and so he just sat

there admiring her face, his favorite face. Eventually a longing for food came,

so he rose from the bed whispering a promise to return. When he entered the

kitchen he found John sitting on the couch, blogging.

Silently, he put on a pot of coffee. The silence is what gave him

away.

"You needn't worry so," John said understandingly."She'll be fine in a day

or two."

"Oh, but I always worry John," Sherlock replied, pouring the coffee into a

mug.

"I know what love does to us," John philosophized. "It can turn men into

monsters and monsters into men."

Sherlock sighed. "Lyra is my life, my world, I wouldn't be able to

go on without her. I wake up every day just to see her smile, to toy with this

pretty blond curls, to look into those emerald eyes and see the only mystery

that always has my interest. But with all the dangerous things we do all the

enemies we've made..I'm afraid I might loose her one day. That, my dear Watson,

is when the real monster inside me will come out."

"Did the great Sherlock Holmes just open up?" Asked John.

"Perhaps" he replied.

"So what are you going to do about Lyra?"

"What do you mean?"/DIV

"She can't go on being your girlfriend forever, you have to pop the

question eventually."

"Yes," Sherlock agreed, "but I must make it special."

"Oh I am certain you will," John declared with a mischievous

smile.


End file.
